


I want Your Sex

by DragonSlayer2526



Series: Teen Wolf One Shots [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mikaela is older in this, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSlayer2526/pseuds/DragonSlayer2526
Summary: Mikaela gets a surprised visitor...





	I want Your Sex

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this ;D

Mikaela was sitting on the sofa in her brick two story house that was just down the street of her brother’s and her childhood home. She had her legs tucked under her and she was covered by a her wolf throw blanket, there was a fire going in the fire place and she was reading one of her favorite books.

 **The Silver Wolf** by Alice Borchardt.

And yes, she could see the irony of her reading this book since the main character of this story could change into a wolf and so could Mikaela. But she loved this book and the author, she even has the rest of the series. The prologue and then the sequel, and they were just as good as this book.

A knock at the door had Mikaela looking up and then sighing heavily, she put her bookmark in (it had a picture of a gray wolf peeking through autumn leaves) and placed her book down before she stood up and walked towards the door.

Mikaela opened it and blinked when she saw who it was.

Peter Hale. Derek’s Uncle and Alpha Werewolf. And a total psycho.

“You’re going to stand there, staring at me?” Peter asked. “I know that I am attractive but you don’t need to stare like that.”

And a total smart ass.

Mikaela rolled her eyes at him and said, “I wasn’t staring because you’re attractive, Peter. I was wondering why you were here.”

Peter smirked at her and said, “Why don’t you let me in and I can tell you all about it.”

She glowered at him but stepped to the side to allow him inside her home, she made a big show of it too.

The older man chuckled as he stepped past her and she closed the door behind them. Mikaela followed after Peter into the living room, her hands going into the back pockets of her shorts.

Peter saw the book that she had put down and picked it up, “The Silver Wolf…” He opened the hardback book and read what it was about on the cover. “....So this Regeane character like you, Wolf Woman?”

Mikaela walked over and took the book from him, “No, Peter, she’s different. Her mother wasn’t like her and thought Regeane was cursed. Regeane had gotten that power from her father.” She put the book on a shelf. “I am a Wolf Woman, my mother was a Wolf Woman as her mother was before her and so on.” Mikaela turned back to look at him. “Did you come here to tease me or talk?”

“Easy, little one, no need to get your hackles up.” Peter soothed.

“Uh, yeah there is...you bit my friends and you had gone after myself and my brother. And oh, let’s not forget that you had also gone after my dad.”

“Okay, I feel that I must repeat myself: Derek had ripped my throat wide open, killing me, and I am not holding it against him.”

Mikaela stared at him, did he really think she was born yesterday? No, she wasn’t and she didn’t like it when he treated her like she was.

“But that doesn’t matter right at this moment, I wanted to talk you about something.”

“About what?”

“If you were really waiting for Derek to make the first move or were you waiting for me to make it.”

Mikaela blinked in surprise and her mouth dropped open, she was shocked into speechless for a few minutes before she regained her voice and said, “Uh...what?” Okay, she really didn’t regain her voice but it was a work in process.

“Are you waiting for Derek? Or are you waiting for me?” Peter repeated smoothly, smiling at her.

“That’s what I thought you said.” Mikaela muttered. “Okay, first of all, Derek probably doesn’t want to make a move towards me because of you, you did kill any girl he had ever dated. And second of all, not waiting for you, Peter. I don’t want to betray my friends by even thinking of you in that way.”

Peter started to walk towards her but Mikaela stayed where she was, she wasn’t going to cow before him. She wasn’t going to submit to him like a wolf would do to its Alpha. So instead of cowering like how he wanted her to do, Mikaela lifted her head and looked in directly into his eyes.

“You can’t lie to me, little one.” Peter said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I can smell that you want me...that Derek is slowly being pushed out of your thoughts by me.”

He leaned down until his lips almost touched her fuller ones, their eyes were still locked.

“You are mistaken, Peter.” Mikaela murmured out, eyes narrowing but she could feel a spike of arousal course through her when she breathed him in.

And she knew when he smelled the tell tale scent of her arousal, his nostrils flared and a smile curved his lips up at the corner.

“Am I, little one? I can smell your desire...so sweet and sensual.”

And then his lips were on hers, hard and yet soft at the same time.

He swept inside her mouth like a conquering army, bulldozing past any tentative explorations and plundering her heated response. Mikaela whimpered and sucked on his tongue, pressing herself closer against him. He went to her head like a shot of whiskey but tasted a whole lot better. He sent the same fire curling into the pit of her belly with none of the bitter acid on her tongue. Instead, he was smooth and rich and sweet like fine chocolate, and for once in her life, Mikaela didn’t worry about the treat going straight to her thighs. She rather hoped he would.

Peter, though, seemed determined to take the long road. His hands glided over her shoulders and down her arms, raising goose bumps in their wake. Everywhere they touched, she tingled, her nerves on high alert. Her breasts pressed against his chest, molding to his hardness, and when she shifted restlessly her bare thighs rubbed against his, reminding her that she was wearing denim short shorts and a V-neck short sleeve shirt, and pushing a moan through her swollen lips.

A growl rumbled in his chest, a low, thrumming response. She felt his hands slide beneath her arms to close around her ribs, tightening as if to warn her trying to escape. As if the thought had even crossed her mind. She wanted to put less distance between them, not more. She wanted to be skin to skin. Closer if she could manage it.

The intensity of her need surprised her, but she didn’t stop to think about it. She didn’t want to waste that kind of time. For the first time in her life, she burned with desire. Mikaela wasn’t normally like this; she was normally in control of her emotions.

But Mikaela’s hormones didn’t care. They were too busy glorying in the feel of his thick dark hair beneath her fingers, the heavy weight of his muscular body pressed against hers. They were too busy urging her to spread her legs, to wrap them around his waist and push him past the next barrier, to care about why she made this move. They just celebrated that she had.

Mikaela moaned into his mouth, moaned again when those lips shifted off hers to blaze a trail along her jaw and down the side of her throat. He nibbled his way along, all but consuming her, tongue and teeth tasting every square inch of tanned, heated skin. Her body quaked in his arms, and as she hooked her ankles together in the small of his back she realized her hormones had won that particular battle. She held his hips cradled against hers, the heat of his erection pressed snugly against her center.

Her eyes flew open and their gazes locked. She saw the fire of passion in his and something else, something simultaneously fierce and protective, greedy and giving. She shuddered underneath his gaze; she leaned her head back and released a puff of air. Mikaela knew that she shouldn’t be doing this, she thought she had feelings for Derek but his Uncle was always there lurking in the background.

Fingertips digging into his flesh, Mikaela tightened the grip of her thighs and rocked her hips suggestively against his. Large hands slid from her hips to her butt, gripping and shifting her, pressing her heat more firmly against his. Mikaela felt a moment’s astonishment that the layer of fabric between them didn’t spontaneously combust and dissolve in a cloud of ash. No such luck. The thin cloth separated them, but even through the barrier her center ached, empty and wanting. Her entire being felt empty and wanting. With any luck, he wasn’t planning to let that continue. Mikaela felt the ground move. It took a minute to realize it was actually Peter, walking backward across the room to a large leather chair in the room. She tightened her thighs around his hips to steady herself and heard him growl in response. Curious, she repeated the motion and got the same response along with a light smack on the ass.

“Don’t tease,” he rumbled, his gaze burning into her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Would you?” she asked, leaning forward to drag her tongue over the pulse beating visibly at the base of his throat. She felt as if some other Mikaela had taken control of her body, but it was too pleasurable for her to care.

“You tell me.”

He shifted her weight into one hand and used the other to grasp one of hers. Dragging it between them, he slid it down and down and down until he wrapped her shaking fingers around the insistent ridge of his erection, pressing eagerly against her center.

Mikaela trembled, not with fear but with the force of her desire. He felt enormous, hot and hard and heavy through the material. Dragging her gaze back to his, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and managed a little shrug. “Won’t know till we try.”

Her husky taunt seemed to have roughly the same effect on him as a waving red cape had on a bull. Peter cursed, something low and harsh and guttural, and took two more giant steps back until the backs of his legs bumped up against the edge of the chair. Carefully he eased himself down, keeping Mikaela’s hips pressed tight against him, guiding her knees to the cushions beside his legs.

She felt her breath speed up, saw her field of vision narrow until all she could see was his face, harsh and set in the light of the room. His features might have been carved roughly out of granite, all sharp planes and angles, weathered by time and experience. Now, lust had made them even more jagged, even more heavily shadowed, and Mikaela lifted one hand to his cheek to reassure herself of his warmth.

Only to feel his teeth close around the plump flesh at the base of her thumb. A shiver of need wracked her, and he pulled her more snugly against him. His hands slide down her thighs, pulling her knees forward until they pressed up against the back of the chair and his cock pressed up against the very heart of her. Her eyes closed for a moment as the need threatened to overwhelm her, and she had to fight them open again.

“What now?” she asked, her voice so rough and throaty, she almost didn’t recognize it.

“Impatient?” His hands slid back up her thighs and around to cup her ass which were somewhat bared because her towel was pushed up and kneading with heated intent. A moan tumbled unbidden from her lips. “Empty.”

“Not for long.”

He leaned forward then, a dark, overwhelming presence that blocked off the light, and his lips settled once more on hers. This time, his mouth devoured, hungrier, more demanding. If such a thing were possible. She went under as if grasped by a riptide, barely registering the movement of his hands on the top of her shorts. But she couldn’t mistake the cool air on her skin as he ripped the shorts off and tossed the torn denim bottoms onto the floor behind her.

Gasping, Mikaela pulled back and stared into his eyes, seeing nothing there but a need that mirrored her own.

She swallowed and shivered, her nibbles hardening in the cold air. Goose bumps spreading across her skin in the cold air, she wasn’t expecting him to remove her shorts so suddenly. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to sleep with him it was more because the cool air somewhat jarred her out of her lust induced pleasure. “I, uh, I guess that it was a good thing that I wore a one of my work shorts.”

“Mmhmm,” he agreed.

He slid one finger over the bare skin of her hip, she shivered and her cheeks darkened even more with desire. She noticed that she was hot and bare and spread open across his lap like a banquet.

He looked very, very hungry.

She didn’t have time to catch her breath. Peter wouldn’t let her. His hand on her bottom held her firmly in place while the other slid relentlessly over the soft mound of her belly and down through the tidy nest of curls between her legs. His fingers parted them, slid lower, discovered the slick moisture that waited got him, and sank deep.

Mikaela cried out, high and aching and arched reflexively into his touch. She felt, more than heard, his purr of satisfaction.

Her head fell back, her neck no longer able to support its spinning, dizzy weight. She felt him shift, felt his fingers slide deeper, parting her soft folds, seeking her center. His lips touched her throat, slid down, his tongue dragging across the hollow above her collarbone just as long one finger pierced her snug opening and thrust inside her with torturous slowness. She clamped around him like a vise, every muscle tensing at the intrusion. She heard his murmur of pleasure and squirmed, looking for an ease she couldn’t find. Her whole body felt tight and restless, empty and needing. Not a single memory of her previous lover intruded. Peter’s hands felt too right, too perfect over her overheated flesh.

“Tight,” he whispered against her throat. “Sweet.”

Mikaela moaned and squirmed again. His finger stroked deep inside her, but she wanted him deeper, wanted it with a fierceness that shocked her.

“Please,” she gasped.

He nuzzled her throat; teeth nibbled the sensitive skin, the light teasing contact a stark contrast to the invasive intimacy of his thrusting finger.

“More?”

She could barely nod, but her muscles clenched around him in avid encouragement. A low chuckle drifted through her fog, and she felt his finger slip out of her. Her hands clenched on his shoulder in panic. He couldn’t leave her now.

“Hush,” he soothed, stroking his tongue in a hot path to her shoulder. “Have more.”

His touch returned, two fingers this time, the thickness of them stretching her opening with a heavenly, aching burn. He probed deeply, fingers curling to drag along the inner walls of her passage, and Mikaela found herself thrusting back against him, struggling to take him deeper, to urge him into the possessive rhythm her body longer for.

She rocked against his fingers, high, desperate whimpers begging for more. The fabric of his pants rubbed against her inner thighs, and her tightly beaded nipples stabbed at the fabric of her bra, reminding her that she was still completely dressed on the top part of her body while she writhed, naked and aching, like a wanton in his lap.

Peter didn’t seem to mind. He murmured encouraging noises against her throat, his hand on her ass dragging her firmly into the thrust of his fingers. She gripped his shoulders, her nails biting into him, trying to steady herself against the raging tide of lust that threatened to overtake her.

Too late, it had already overtaken her.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice raw, reduced to begging for pleasure. “More, please.”

She didn’t know exactly what she was asking, whether it was for him to stop teasing and come inside her, whether to keep teasing until she fractured into a million tiny shards on his lap. It hardly mattered. She wanted more. She was begging for more.

“More.”

His hand shifted between her legs, two fingers sliding through the hot slickness of her desire, teasing her opening with tickling touches before returning to press against her again. This time, it was three fingers, and the pressure at her entrance stretched Mikaela wide, threatening pain that didn’t quite materialize.

“Peter?...” Her voice shivered from her, a question, a warning.

He soothed her with the light brush of his lips against hers and pressed more firmly at her entrance, “Come, little one,” He urged, his voice dark and seductive. “Take me inside. You can do it.”

She swallowed a cry and dragged in a shaking breath. Blowing it out in a long, steady stream, she concentrated on forcing her muscles to relax and let her body ease down around his thick, probing fingers.

“That’s it,” He praised, his voice all rasping heat and growling urgency. “Good, girl.”

She felt tense and stretched and shivering on the edge of pleasure. Her nerves were on high alert, registering every shift, every slide, every nudge of his fingers inside her slick sheath. If his fingers filled her this full, she shuddered to think what it would feel like when his cock tunneled through the over sensitized flesh.

A quick hiss of breath told her Peter had felt every ripple of that shudder. She forced her heavy eyelids up again and found him watching her with almost frightening intensity. She shivered again and watched as he softened, felt his fingers stroked slowly and steadily inside her clinging body.

“All right?”

She managed a nod, barely.

“Good girl. Hold on.”

Before she could wonder what he meant, she felt his fingers thrust deep, high and hard inside her. He kept them there, his gaze searching her face. He must have seen what he wanted, because his gaze flared with hungry satisfaction as his free hand slid from her bottom up over her hip, under her V-neck shirt to curl around the vee of the opening, his fingers peeking out from between her breasts.

Mikaela had one second to blink down at his fingers before they tightened and yanked down, tearing the shirt and pulling her body hard onto his invading touch.

Mikaela’s scream startled her. Peter just looked please.

He brushed the sides of her shirt out of the way and tugged it off each arm before setting her hands back into their places on his shoulder. Certain she would drown if she loosened her grip for an instant, she clung to him as if he were a life raft. He tossed her shirt aside and looked down at the little plastic tab between her breasts that held her bra closed. The last tangible barrier between her and his devouring gaze.

“Perfect.”

With exaggerated care, so incongruous after the ruins he’d made of the rest of her clothing, Peter used his thumb and forefinger to flip open the tab and watched with apparent fascination as the two sides parted, peeling away from the insides of her breasts to expose soft skin.

“Perfect.” He rasped.

His fingers resumed a slow, steady thrusting between her legs, making her body feel as if it were melting into a little Mikaela-flavored puddle in his lap. She whimpered uncontrollably as he leaned down and nuzzled her bra away from each breast, baring her nipples one at a time like tiny treasure hoards. He greeted each with a slow, lazy glide of his tongue that made her clench around his fingers, before he finished removing her last garment with excruciating delicacy.

Mikaela figured she was about three and half seconds away from losing her mind.

She leaned forward, sobbing as the movement drove his fingers higher inside her and rested her sweat-dampered forehead against his chest. “Peter, please.”

For one horrible moment, she thought he was going to ignore her.

So she turned her head, she pressed one feverish cheek to his chest and closed her teeth over a smooth expanse of heavy muscle.

That seemed to do the trick.

With a smothered roar, Peter pulled his fingers from her body and started to remove his clothing. In the space between heartbeats, he had the clothes off and out of the way and shifted his hands to close one around Mikaela’s hip, holding her steady against him. The other curled around his erection, his knuckles brushing against Mikaela’s clit and making her jump.

“Don’t move.” He ordered, tense and breathless, as he set the head of his cock against her opening and began to push.

Mikaela’s eyes widened and her spine tensed as she felt the width of his erection demanding entrance to her body. He felt even thicker than his fingers, hotter, smoother, and she wondered in a brief moment of panic if she had bitten off more than she could chew.

Then Peter shifted his grip, both hands clamped down hard on her hips and drawing her slowly, steadily, inexorably, down upon him. All Mikaela could do was take a deep breath and relax.

Their eyes locked, blue on hazel-brown, both intent as he forged his way deeper.

Mikaela shuddered and froze, every muscle locked against the intrusion. She wanted him inside her so badly, but she couldn’t seem to relax enough to admit him. Frustrated, she whimpered and pressed hard against him.

Peter’s fingers tightened on her hips. “Slowly.”

She didn’t want slow. She wanted now.

Biting into her lip to distract herself from the sharp sting between her legs, Mikaela firmed her thighs against his hips and pressed herself steadily down over him.

He cursed, his fingers biting into her hips for a breathless heartbeat. She could almost see his struggle against the sensations of wet heat and tight welcome closing around him. If it was anything like Mikaela was feeling, he probably couldn’t even remember his name just then.

But she could. It was engraved in flaming script on her mind and someplace else that felt suspiciously near her heart.

“Peter.”

She whispered it, sobbed it, as he slid deeper, deeper, mind-bendly deep until he came to rest pressing up against the very heart of her. Then she tightened her body around him and screamed it.

“Peter!”

If he made an answer, she didn’t hear. She leaned against him, trembling and aching, feeling the heat of him as he shifted his grip to pull her tighter against him. One hand pressed against the small of her back, guiding her hips in a sliding, rocking motion that sent him nudging over and over against a spot high inside her that made brilliant points of orange light burst and shimmer behind her eyelids.

His other hand slid up the bare, supple length of her spine, tunneling through the weight of her silky-fine hair to settle possessively over the back of her neck. He cradled her with a touch that felt distinctly like a brand, but Mikaela didn’t care. She wanted him to be possessive, wanted to be possessed by him. If she could have sunk beneath his skin, she would have. She needed to be closer to him, to be part of him, the way she had begun to fear he was becoming a part of her.

She opened her mouth to cry out, but the sound caught in her throat. She lacked the breath to force it out. He drove it from her with each deep, gliding stroke.

Her muscles began to shake, pulled tight to the point of breaking. She could feel something looming over her like a tidal wave about to break. She knew it struck, the undertow would drag her to the rocks and sand, leaving her batter and bruised in the aftermath. She didn’t care.

The last vestige of her strength went to forcing her eyes open one last time. Her gaze locked with Peter’s, saw the same dazed acceptance in his that she knew shone in hers. Aching, writhing, keening soft and high with the need, Mikaela leaned forward and spoke the only word she could remember. The only one that mattered.

“Peter.”

It was the crack in the dike. With a roar, he crushed her against him, his fingers digging into her flesh with bruising force. His thrusts battered at her, sending him almost painfully deep inside her, forcing out the memory of what her body felt like when it had been separate from his. She felt his possessiveness, felt it and gloried in it. Her own fingers tightened on his shoulders and she knew she would fight just as hard to hold on to him. They had become interdependent, one burning, twisting, desperate entity, unable to sustain themselves apart.

Tilting her head back, Mikaela looked up into the mouth of the wave and felt her lips curve up into a smile. Let it come. She was ready.

Body arching, heart pounding, she gathered herself and threw her heart into the tide wave, knowing that when she washed ashore, she would never be the same.

It didn’t matter, because neither would Peter.


End file.
